


Bullfighting and Bullsoothing

by FlitShadowflame



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Altered Mental States, Dorian Pavus Has Self-Esteem Issues, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, dubcon public sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:26:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlitShadowflame/pseuds/FlitShadowflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From <a href="http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13890.html?thread=56714306#t56714306">kinkmeme prompt</a>, truncated to reduce some spoilerage:</p>
<p>"No one realised just how protective Bull becomes of people he cares about so when he becomes furious during battle when the Inquisitor is injured, no one knows what's going on or how to calm him down. Dorian steps up and tries talking him down and finds it works. He's not expecting Bull to surge forward and kiss him though. This becomes a regular thing; when Bull is angry, send in Dorian."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bullfighting and Bullsoothing

The Inquisitor makes no secret of why he brings Bull and Dorian on missions, never just one or the other.

“Dorian doesn’t complain as much when he has Bull to stare at” and “Bull gets in entirely too much trouble without Dorian reining him in.” There are other, unspoken reasons, too: Bull takes up so much of a two-man tent that the only way to share requires full body contact, and Dorian is one of very few people comfortable with doing that (when it’s Bull he’s touching, at least). Dorian remembers to use barriers more when he has Bull around to protect. They have unique viewpoints replicated nowhere else in the Inquisitor’s Inner Circle, and they have the most entertaining discussions.

Most of all? They fight brilliantly together, unstoppable and deadly. Dorian lets Bull herd enemies in close and then unleashes devastating area attacks, fireballs and horror spells and walking bombs. Bull cuts them down when Dorian finishes stripping their defenses.

As Bull progresses in Reaver training, they grow even more efficient at combat, but there’s always a price to power. It takes Bull a moment to discern friend from foe now, especially in the heat of battle or just after.

Soon, it’s an even longer moment of uncertainty, and then Bull outright attacks Blackwall, and only Dorian’s sharp reprimand stops him from causing real damage.

Bull, overcome with gratitude for the clarity Dorian restores him, kisses the mage, hard, in front of everyone. Never keen on public displays, Dorian clearly resists before slumping in defeat and letting Bull hold him like a comfort toy.

This scene becomes a fairly common one, as their relationship deepens and Bull’s Reaver skills grow. A battle ends and Dorian is nudged Bull’s way like an innkeep might send a pint to his regular before the drinker even takes his seat. Dorian dislikes the audience, but he doesn’t mind the kisses one bit, and it isn’t like anyone watches with prurient intent. Most turn away from the show, actually, getting on with the business of looting the bodies and determining their next target.

After months of this odd dance, the Inquisitor is relatively certain Bull’s Reaver training isn’t the only thing at fault. His rages are _like_ Reaver trances, but they always seem to be reactions to a friend being hurt, rather than a wound of his own.

Really, it’s inevitable that things get tricky. They face death all the time, and they weren’t always lucky enough to escape without a few scratches.

When the dragon’s tail whips about and slams the Inquisitor into a crumbling stone wall so hard that it fell to pieces, Bull roars inhumanly loud in his fury, climbs the beast’s neck, and grabs its horns before giving an almighty wrench, twisting his whole upper body with his legs clinging to the dragon’s neck.

Dorian is pretty sure no one has ever snapped a High Dragon’s neck with his bare hands before, but he doesn’t have time to be impressed. Vivienne goes to see to the Inquisitor; he runs to Bull’s side as the Qunari dismounts the fallen beast.

Uncertainty and hesitance usually upset Bull but actively worsen his condition at times like this. Dorian keeps his gait authoritative as he approaches, speaking in low, soft Tevene. The language, the words, they aren’t important; Bull is more instinct than intellect right now.

Bull breathes hard through flared nostrils, making him look very like his namesake. Dorian offers a hand but doesn’t invade the Iron Bull’s space, waiting for him to take the next step.

The bruising kiss and tight embrace are more or less expected. The hands tearing his robes apart and forcing him down into the dirt and spilled blood and trampled snow of the battlefield, however, are not even a concept in Dorian’s wildest daydreams.

He’s too shocked to struggle, and too scared to speak. Bull has never ignored Dorian before, but if he did so now, Dorian might not survive it. He hopes desperately that he has enough mana left to stop Bull from doing any serious damage.

Though, truly, he shouldn’t worry. As big and rough as Bull is, he’s never been one to inflict pain for pain’s sake and he is undoubtedly the most considerate, exceedingly gentle sexual partner Dorian has ever had.

Even when entirely driven by his most basic desires, Bull goes to the trouble of fingering Dorian open first. Thank Andraste they’d delayed the Inquisitor that morning by making thorough use of the tent.

“Bull - please, no, not here,” Dorian huffs, wriggling under Bull’s hand. Just one palm; down on the hollow between Dorian’s shoulders, and Bull might as well have chained him from head to toe.

The mage claws at the dirt futilely as Bull ignores him.

“Bull, I’ll go with you anywhere, just not _here_ ,” Dorian repeats, feeling a touch ill. All dragon corpses smell uniquely terrible, in Dorian’s experience, and this one is no exception. The vacant eyes staring at him do not help settle his stomach at all.

Bull is either not listening or not capable of hearing, however. He enters Dorian in a single sharp stroke that makes Dorian cry out in pain and alarm. He hears Vivienne call his name and then he slams his palm down in the mud, channeling power through the earth rather than the air.

Walls of ice rise to surround them on all sides, near enough to feel the chill without penning Bull in too closely or touching either of them with the spell. Mercifully, it blocks the view and most of the stench of the dragon.

Dorian hopes, a bit desperately, that the cooler air will help Bull calm down faster, but if it has any effect at all, he sees no evidence of it. Bull’s rough thrusting does not falter even once. He covers - pins - Dorian with his whole body, marking his neck as he often does in this sort of state: raw, animal need and possessive, protective instinct.

It is what the Bull needs, Dorian reminds himself as he attempts to relax. He can’t deny Bull what he _needs_ , not when its cost is such fleeting discomfort, not after everything the Iron Bull has done for him.

He closes his eyes and pretends they’re back in the tent again; still cold but not so wretchedly exposed. Bull fucks him mercilessly and Dorian endures, because denying Bull is no longer possible, even if he could muster the will to try.

The bumps and bruises from dragonslaying were minor in comparison to the bites and handprints Bull marks him with.

“Please,” he whispers, shivering even with Bull’s warm bulk on top of him. Bull’s hips go still as he floods Dorian with come, and Dorian relaxes fractionally.

It’s a small eternity before Bull seems to recover his senses, pulling free with a groan.

“Dorian?” he murmurs, as though roused from a heavy sleep. He touches Dorian’s back, gentle and hesitant. Then he turns the mage over and pulls him into his lap carefully, eyes wide and a little wet. “No, n-no no no, kadan, baby, are you okay?”

Dorian takes a slow, shuddering breath. “I’ll...I’ll be fine, amatus,” he says woodenly.

“Did I hurt you?” Bull asks softly.

“...nothing I haven’t enjoyed before,” Dorian says, knowing it’s an obvious evasion and not caring a single whit.

Bull cradles him gently, so gently like he thinks now is when Dorian will break. “I’m so sorry, kadan, it’ll never happen again. I’ll leave the Inquisition if that’s what it takes, I never want to hurt you again - ”

“Please don’t leave,” Dorian whispers, trembling. “Please. I need you.” Bull helps him into the tatters of his robes, carries him to camp wordlessly even though Dorian insists he can walk.

The Inquisitor calls Blackwall and Sera in their place and Bull holds Dorian for as long as Dorian likes. The next several days, on their journey back to Skyhold, are spent in a chaste, awkward silence as Bull attempts to anticipate Dorian’s every need while not assuming or pushing anything on the mage. It’s exhausting just to watch, and Dorian ends the standoff by curling up to Bull’s chest and nuzzling his skin.

“You’re not a monster, and I’d appreciate it if you stopped acting like you’ve damaged me,” he says. “I’m not a helpless maiden you stole the innocence of. I could easily have killed you even pinned to the ground, or just cast Horror to distract you.”

“Being able to win a fight but not engaging or backing down is not the same as consent,” Bull says grimly. “I know that. And I know you, this is hardly the first time you’ve taken a hit for someone else. You don’t think you’re worth saving the way you think other people are. But Dorian, you _are_ worth saving. And you deserve better treatment. A better person.”

“Stop trying to tell me what’s ‘better’ for me,” Dorian hisses. “Do you really think that’s ever mattered? And even if it did - you are the best man I’ve ever known, carnally and otherwise, with the possible exception of Felix. You’re the first man who has listened to me, has asked me what I like, has made an effort to avoid what I don’t. I have known all sorts of selfish arseholes who spend little thought on my enjoyment, who take their pleasure and hurry on, back to the shadows. You’re the first man who has flirted with me openly, who has publicly admitted to fucking me without any kind of shame, do you know what that feels like? I was so furious with you then, until I realized...sex isn’t a shameful secret thing, not in the South. And no one really cared, not like I expected, not like they would in Tevinter.” He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Bull’s collarbone. “If you think one fucking setback will make me give up the best thing that’s ever happened to me, then you’re utterly mistaken. And I’m certainly not letting you go for some hypothetical better person.”


End file.
